


Without You I'm Nothing

by Reis_Asher



Series: (Not) Just A Machine [7]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Sex, Dubious Consent, Fucked Up Hank Anderson, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kamski Test (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Meet Kamski Chapter (Detroit: Become Human), Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 10:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Seeing his past in a new light, Hank suffers a panic attack on the way to Kamski's place. Connor's gentle reaction to it is more than he can bear, and he ends up fucking the android in his car to hide his insecurities.Connor goes through with the Kamski Test, and Hank finally gets some answers about the true nature of his android partner, as well as himself...





	Without You I'm Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> If you're here, you probably know what you're in for, but just in case you're new: read the tags/warnings please! And the other parts, since this really doesn't stand alone. This series is about a fucked up version of Hank Anderson and features dub-con, non-con and other difficult to stomach content. It is not happy, and not for minors!
> 
> I feel like my heart was extracted from my chest with an ice cream scoop after writing this. Fuck, this was a gut-wrenching experience. I hope you enjoy it.

Hank glanced over at Connor in the passenger seat as he drove through the snow, needing a change from the relentless white glare in front of his eyes. Connor regarded him with studious eyes, deep with anxiety and innocence combined. It always made the breath catch in his throat how fucking gorgeous the android was, how perfectly human he appeared. He looked back at the road, resenting his desire and the wicked things it had enabled.

Connor piped up. "You didn't have to help me in the bathroom, Lieutenant. I'm grateful you chose to assist me. While CyberLife would have sent a replacement, I lose some memories each time I have to be reactivated. It may have interfered with the investigation."

"Don't thank me," Hank snapped. "It's my fault this happened. I'm the one who wanted them all to fuck you, Connor. Don't forget that. It was my order that let Gavin tear out your components while he fucked you. It's my fault you almost _died_."

"You were disturbed by what you saw," Connor observed.

"Who wouldn't be?" Hank regretted everything about this conversation. He didn't want to talk about what Gavin had done. The image was burned into his retinas, Gavin pounding into Connor with such a look of loathing and hatred, and Hank realized how different he was from the other cops. Had the rest of the DPD fucked Connor with that same spite, plowing him and pumping him full of their cum only to demean him, to tear him down, to punish him for existing?

Had it been the same for him, all those years ago? Had Fowler and the others been laughing behind his back, using Hank as their cumdump while raising up a kid they saw as pretty but worthless through the ranks to become the youngest Lieutenant in Detroit?

Hank had never felt violated before, but now his body didn't feel like his own. The ghosts of two dozen calloused hands gripped him, groped him, came inside him one after the other.

_"Know your place, you little cocksucker."_ Strong hands gripping his hair, pulling back on his neck. _"You got that commendation because I gave you the tip-off. I made you. I could just as easily destroy you. One word to your wife about what you do here and she'd be disgusted. I hear you're trying for a kid and havin' trouble. Maybe 'cause you're so easy to spend here, you little slut."_ A big hand jerking him off as he whined, knowing they'd deny him orgasm until he'd taken all their loads.

Some of them had been kind. Fowler had always been the closest thing he'd had to a friend, their vague acknowledgement of each other from school up through the academy seeming to forge itself into a friendly rivalry. Fowler had risen through the ranks on more than looks and fucking ability, though. He hadn't gotten to Captain through quid-pro-quo.

Hank had forgotten so much about those days. It had been easier to remember the pleasurable sensations and pretend he'd initiated it all, that he was in control, that he loved being the DPD slut with his raw ass seeping cum while he wrapped up investigations that were almost done and garnered the credit.

The truth was that he'd been nothing, and he was nothing, right up until the day Cole was born and looked up at him like he was the center of the universe. The other officers had moved along to younger, prettier prey years before, but his low self-esteem had followed him as he built his own skills and caught killers, trying to prove that he'd earned his rank with more than his mouth and ass. The officers who'd fucked him transferred and retired one-by-one, and for a few years, those around him seemed to believe that he was someone.

And then Cole had died, and the illusion that he mattered at all shattered and broke into a million pieces.

"Lieutenant?" Connor's voice snapped him back to reality, and Hank realized they were almost at Elijah Kamski's home. He grounded himself in the moment, needing to forget everything he'd remembered, every skeleton he'd buried beneath the carefully woven fiction he'd written to deny the truth. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He wasn't fine. The memories kept coming unbidden, sitting on his chest like an invisible weight. He started to breathe too quickly—short, shallow, unsatisfying breaths as his ribcage constricted. He struggled to maintain control and pulled the car over to the side of the road.

"Lieutenant, let me help you." Connor's hand traced circles on his back and his sweet look of care and concern only made Hank's panic quicken. The thought that he'd done to this pretty boy what they'd done to him was too much to bear, and he thought he might explode, tearing himself and Connor apart in the process.

He had to make Connor drop this soft, tender act before it broke him. He silenced Connor with a hungry kiss and groped for his crotch, sticking his tongue down the android's throat while he caressed Connor's growing erection through his jeans.

He pulled away, gasping for breath and unbuckled his seatbelt. He climbed on top of Connor in the passenger seat, needing to crush him beneath his giant frame and force him to stop being so kind, so devastatingly gentle to a monster like him. He thrust against Connor, pinning him to the seat as the android threw his head back and moaned.

Had he looked so eager, so convincing, once upon a time?

He pushed away his thoughts to concentrate on Connor's mouth, his tongue wrestling with Connor's as they rutted with their clothes on. It wasn't enough; nothing would be enough except his dick in Connor's gorgeous asshole until he was sloppy and gaping from stretching to accommodate Hank. The obliterating white light of the little death was the only thing keeping madness at bay, and Connor was the only one who could provide it.

Hank withdrew to unbuckle Connor's belt and pull his jeans down. Connor kicked them the rest of the way off and into the footwell, revealing his flawless ass and gorgeous, erect cock. Hank spread his cheeks with a grunt of mixed joy and disapproval as he saw a clean, empty hole instead of the usual sloppy seconds he enjoyed.

Maybe that was better, given the circumstances. Connor was his alone, today, his asshole clean and ready to take Hank's load. Hank fumbled behind him in the glove compartment for lube and found some, pouring it on Connor's crack and fingering it inside his asshole with urgency.

"Lieutenant, this is unnecessary. I am incapable of feeling pain," Connor reminded him.

"I know," Hank growled. "Shut up." He wasn't going to fuck Connor dry, wasn't going to risk tearing him up. He wasn't Gavin Reed and this wasn't an act of loathing, no matter how fucked up it was. He didn't hate Connor, didn't want to hurt him or destroy him. He wanted Connor to cry out in ecstasy, to throw his head back and cry out Hank's name, to come undone from the sensation of Hank's dick slamming into him. He wanted to worship this beautiful boy, to cherish him, as much as a broken, lost soul could cherish anything.

He slid into Connor's hole, burying himself to the hilt. Connor gasped and Hank kissed his neck, reveling in how much this pleasure hurt with a bittersweet ache. He had no right to touch Connor and he never had, yet somehow he only ever felt alive when he was balls deep inside him, chasing orgasm and oblivion at the same time.

There was something different about this, an unwelcome intimacy creeping into the scene as he fucked into Connor, pinning him to the seat with his dick and his kisses. Connor's hands slid across his back, his face contorted into an expression of desire and longing that was too beautiful to comprehend.

Connor was all together too lovely, too perfect, too flawless for a beast like him to ravage and hope to survive. He thrust his cock harder into Connor's ass, obliterating it while silently praying to be destroyed, to turn to ashes and dust in the orgasm that was coming and be done. He wanted Connor to melt him away to nothing, to set him on fire and end his flawed human life.

He didn't hate Connor. He hated himself, every vein and artery, every inch of skin and hair, every beat of his black, dried-up heart. Making this gorgeous, innocent beauty get fucked by his monstrous prick was self-immolation at its finest, and he was dancing in the flames.

He wouldn't live much longer, now.

"Connor!" Hank's orgasm left him with a strangled sob. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back unwanted tears as he realized this would be the last time they would ever do this. He refused to withdraw, gripping Connor's cock in hand with his dick still buried inside, managing a few more thrusts of his overstimulated penis even as his body complained.

Connor gasped, fucking into his fist and forcing himself down further on Hank's dick. Connor came, enthusiastic spurts of semen coating Hank's hand and his own thighs as he milked Hank's cock dry by clamping down. As if he knew to save every drop for the drought to come.

There were tears in Connor's eyes as Hank withdrew and Hank didn't know if they were from pleasure, sorrow or just some programmed reaction. Didn't want to know. Couldn't stand to know.

So he didn't ask.

***

"Decide who you are." Hank's stomach lurched as Kamski guided Connor's arm to point the gun at the girl knelt in front of him, his voice never breaking out of calm, measured tones. He appeared more robotic than the androids before him, though there appeared to be a slight hint of pleasure beneath the surface, the twisted arrogance of a foolish man who believed himself to be a god while in the presence of one. "An obedient machine, or a living being endowed with free will."

Hank didn't share Kamski's confidence that Connor would turn away. Deep down, the knife that had been embedded in his spirit since the first time he'd fucked Connor twisted one more rotation in his gut, warning him that he was bleeding out and almost dead. The blood of his soul was black as pitch, and he worried that his stain had rubbed off on Connor, tainting his innocence enough that he would long for death the way Hank did. He wondered if Connor would kill this girl just to bring a swift end to the investigation and with it, his purpose, his life, and his suffering. "That's enough! Connor, we're leaving."

"Pull the trigger," Kamski urged.

"Connor, don't!"

"—and I'll tell you what you wanna know."

There was a pregnant pause in the air that seemed to go on forever, the ambient classical music sending shivers down Hank's spine as he recalled tales of atrocities committed to such pleasant notes. The swimming pool was the color of human blood. Everything about this place screamed out a warning, and Hank knew it was a place for the dead, for obsolete humans like him and Kamski, not for living beings like Connor.

Connor was alive, after all. Hank wasn't sure when he'd realized it, or if he'd known all along, but the boy standing before him paused in indecision was as real as any flesh and blood human being.

The shot, when it came, was a complete surprise after all, Hank's ears ringing from the sound before he'd even realized the gun had discharged. Hank glanced down, fully expecting to see his own blood staining his abdomen. Connor shooting him made sense. Connor shooting the defenseless woman on her knees in front of him did not. He'd anticipated Connor handing back the gun with a look of confusion on his face, denying his status as a deviant even as it was apparent that he'd strayed from his mission objective. He'd feared Connor might shoot and yet he'd never believed it.

His faith was shattered.

Instead, there was only the grim realization that the mission was—and always had been—the only thing that mattered to Connor. Perhaps more damning than the murder was the cold, hard truth that nothing he'd done to Connor had mattered in either a positive or negative way.

Hank was still nothing. Not a villain in Connor's life, not a monster to be defeated nor a sinner to be forgiven. Not a mentor or a protector or a friend. He was nothing, as irrelevant as a bug splat on the windshield of his car.

Perhaps nothing, in the end, was what he truly deserved, and the fact settled within him with a rightness that told Hank it could only be the truth.

"Fuck!"

"Test negative." Kamski almost looked disappointed, the way a scientist might when he discovered the rat was never going to solve the maze. "You chose your investigation over the life of another android. You feel no empathy."

Hank's eyes were stuck on the bullet hole in the girl's head, unable to wrench themselves away from the hideous image that everyone else in the room regarded with indifference. There was an unreality to the whole scene as Connor stood there with his LED circling yellow as if he'd just solved a difficult puzzle instead of taking a life.

Hank turned on his heel and left as quickly as his large strides would take him, the weight on his chest returning like it had never left, along with disgust at what he'd done to Connor in the car. Was it his fault Connor had made the determination to shoot the girl? No, that couldn't be right. He had to stop attributing feelings to Connor when he'd made it clear he didn't possess an ounce of empathy or emotion.

Hank eyed his car and considered leaving, but he wanted to challenge Connor, to see what the android would say in his defense. Perhaps it was a final test, a futile attempt to confirm his deepest fears, but he had to know once and for all. The question had hung in the air too long and he'd come to the wrong conclusions, projecting what he'd wanted onto Connor instead of accepting the reality of what he actually was.

_"I'm whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant."_ Perhaps that had been a warning: a threat, not a promise. A heads-up that nothing about Connor was real. That he could pretend to be Hank's sweet, eager, beautiful boy for as long as the investigation continued, but that ultimately, in the end, there was only the mission and that took priority over Hank's needs.

Hank crossed his arms and leaned on the car, readying himself for the confrontation of a lifetime.

"You shot that girl, for fuck's sake." Disgust poured out of Hank's mouth as Connor approached. He was aware how hypocritical he sounded, and yet, he no longer cared. For all intents and purposes, Connor had shot him, and sentenced him to die a long, painful, lonely death.

He was at the end, now, and he craved oblivion to come and end his suffering. There could be no forgiveness, but there could be silence. He was nothing, and he would return to nothing.

There was no heaven for androids, or for Hank Anderson.

"It wasn't a girl, Lieutenant. It was a machine that looked like a girl." It hurt to hear Connor double down on his actions and try to justify them with cold logic. Hurt because he saw himself looking back at him with Connor's face. He'd justified fucking Connor time and time again with every shred of broken logic he could muster, and now Connor was using the same tricks on him to justify murder.

He'd created this monster, taken something so beautiful and pure and turned it into a killing machine. His blackened soul had corrupted the one good thing to come into his life since Cole's death.

Hank decided to push, realizing he no longer cared if Connor pulled out a gun and shot him in the head. Being put out of his misery could only be a blessing at this point, and if Connor had been holding a gun, he would have pressed his forehead against the barrel the same way Connor had in the park. "You put your gun against her head and you blew her fucking brains out!" Hank strode forward, anger giving him strength, and he wanted to use that strength to goad Connor into killing him. Connor grabbed him and shoved him backwards, sending him stumbling, and he realized he didn't have the balls to follow through with his plan.

Connor did a good job of looking hurt and conflicted as he yelled. "I did what I had to do to advance the investigation and I'd do it again if I had to!"

Hank yelled back, raw emotion pouring out of him. "You're a lowlife! You don't feel a thing, do you? A machine! That's what you are! You're just a fucking machine…"

"Of course I'm a machine, Lieutenant. What did you think I was?" There was a bitterness to Connor's tone that chilled Hank's bones, Connor's unspoken accusation stripping him to the core. It was out in the open, now, clear as day. He'd wanted Connor to be alive, and machine or not, Connor had to know what that meant. That Hank had fucked him senseless wanting him to feel everything, live in every moment as he was passed around like an object, cum dripping from every hole. If he was truly just a machine, perhaps that meant nothing to him, but Hank wanted it to mean something, because something had to be better than nothing at all.

He'd rather hurt Connor than be nothing, and he realized in that second that the destruction of his soul was complete.

"I thought you… I thou— Fuck." Hank got in his car, suddenly needing to put as much distance between himself and Connor as he could. He shifted into reverse and slammed the accelerator pedal to the floor, old tires skidding on the snow as he turned around, not caring if he hit Connor or not as he sped away.

_"What did you think I was?"_

"I thought you were alive," Hank whispered, finishing the thought.

No, that wasn't it. That wasn't the entire truth. He'd thought Connor was deviant, yes, but there was something more, something intangible and just out of his reach. He groped for it, needing to unwrap the final secret, to look upon the truth in its entirety and see his blackened heart for what it had become. He considered all the times Connor had turned to him, when he'd been afraid on the rooftop, when he'd been conflicted about letting the Tracis go, when they'd kissed and moaned together like lovers less than an hour ago. When he'd lay vulnerable and bleeding in Hank's arms in the bathroom stall after Gavin's brutal violation.

_I thought—_

_I thought you needed me, Connor._

**Author's Note:**

> There's one more part to go.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed it, I'd love to hear your thoughts. This is a such a hard yet satisfying series to write and I value reader feedback immensely.


End file.
